


cumolonimbus

by ShowMeAHero



Category: IT (1990), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Amputee Eddie Kaspbrak, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, Kissing, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:42:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26633794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShowMeAHero/pseuds/ShowMeAHero
Summary: When they pull apart, Richie cups Eddie’s chin in his hand and grins. “Imean,what’s a better way to spend a rainy night in than—”A bolt of lightning illuminates Eddie’s apartment for one heart-stopping moment before the lights whine and all go out at once. Eddie can feel his spine stiffen before he can stop it.“Hey, it’s okay,” Richie tells him.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 13
Kudos: 116
Collections: it (1990) one-shots





	cumolonimbus

**Author's Note:**

> written based off a prompt i got on tumblr that read: _"for your prompts maybe - miniseries eddie and richie in a storm or a flood or hurricane??[trapped together and maybe huddling for warmth or something??"](https://andillwriteyouatragedy.tumblr.com/post/630163200700252160/for-your-prompts-maybe-miniseries-eddie-and)_

Two hours ago, most of the Losers had just left Eddie’s apartment. It was while waving goodbye to Stan and Patty, the last to drive away, that Richie had noticed the dark clouds outside and turned on his television set to learn that a nasty storm was coming their way.

Richie whistles, leaning his head out Eddie’s kitchen window, while Eddie nervously sits himself on the edge of the coffee table in front of his television.

“Look at how fast it’s moving,” Eddie says. He has to resist the urge to lean in and grip the set with white knuckles. Behind him, he hears the window slide shut, then lock; after a moment, Richie’s hand comes to settle on his shoulder, then the back of his neck. He digs his fingertips in, and Eddie sighs, hanging his head.

“It’s going to be alright,” Richie tells him. “It’s just a storm. We can get up to all sorts of stuff in a storm.”

Eddie huffs a laugh, shoving his glasses up into his hair so he can scrub the back of his wrist against his eyes. He sighs, then wipes his palm flat down his face before clutching his throat. Tipping his head back, he makes eye contact with Richie.

“It’ll be okay,” Richie says again. He pulls Eddie’s glasses free of the tangles of his hair and slips them back into place.

“Should I call and make sure everyone got home okay?” Eddie asks.

“When there’s been enough time for them to  _ get _ home,” Richie says, “you can do anything you want.”

Eddie breaks their eye contact to look down at the television again when the screen flashes. Frowning, he watches the stormfront move on the set just as a distant crack of thunder sounds, rattling him down to his bone marrow.

“I don’t think you should drive home in this,” Eddie says. Richie crouches beside him and takes Eddie’s chin in his hand, turning his face down so their eyes can meet.

“This is home,” Richie tells him firmly. Eddie’s chest tightens impossibly quickly, hearing something like that from Richie, out of nowhere; he thinks Richie can see it in his face, because he adds, “And, plus, I have no intention of leaving you here. I thought we had a date tonight.”

Eddie glances to the window again. Richie lets him, for a moment, before he uses his hold on his chin to tug his attention back down.

“I  _ really  _ don’t think we should be going out in this, Ri—”

“No, God,  _ no,”  _ Richie cuts him off, “I didn’t mean— No, I meant we should just have our date  _ here.” _

Eddie relaxes, feeling a little bit of the tension leech out of him. Richie smiles, and Eddie even feels better after  _ that,  _ knowing he’s not alone here, and that Richie isn’t angry with him, and that everything will probably, logically, be okay.

Thunder crashes again, making him jump and tense up again. Richie stands, kissing his cheek on the way up.

“Let’s see what I can scrounge up for food,” Richie says. Outside, the small, rapid patterings that bring the beginning of a storm start to sound, and Eddie’s skin crawls.

“I’m going to find candles,” Eddie tells him, shoving up from the coffee table.

He has more than candles in the emergency kit in his hall closet, but he tries not to dig it out all that often, so there’s no reason for Richie to know that. Eddie slides it out from the back of the closet and snaps it open, peering inside. For a moment, he can’t decide what to take, so he just drags the whole thing into the hallway.

“Packing up and heading out?” Richie asks. Eddie lifts his head to find Richie in the hall in front of him, holding— something. He offers the bag out to Eddie and asks, “Want a pretzel?”

“This is our emergency kit,” Eddie tells him, waving the pretzels off. He grabs the heavy kit by the handle again and drags it down to his living room.

“What, to revive us if one of us dies?” Richie asks. Eddie smiles, laying the kit on its side, snapping it open. “Oh, my  _ God,  _ Eds.”

“It doesn’t hurt to be prepared,” Eddie says defensively over his shoulder. He pulls a few of his candles out from underneath one of the first aid kits, passing them off for Richie to hold in the crook of his arm.

“Hey, Spaghetti Man, I’m gonna drop something,” Richie tells him, while Eddie’s still rooting for the matchbooks. Eddie’s only just lifted his head to reply when the lights flicker. They go in and out once, twice, and then stay on, but Eddie’s blood’s already turned to ice.

He feels frozen, crouched there on the floor of his living room, until Richie nudges him again. Terrified, heart pounding, he lifts his head so they can make eye contact.

“Hey,” Richie says, voice gone soft and genuine now. Eddie hides his face behind his hand, mortified when the backs of his eyes begin to burn, but Richie brushes his hand away easily, tips his face up to meet his eyes again. “You’re going to be okay, Eds.”

“But what if the building gets— I don’t know, what if it gets struck by lightning?” Eddie asks him, hand shaking. “Or if it floods, or— What if  _ your  _ house floods? Or it catches on fire, or—  _ God,  _ what if Bill’s—”

“Whoa, hey, no no no,” Richie interrupts him. He pulls Eddie to his feet and into a tight hug, letting him bury his face in Richie’s chest. He hides his face there instead, closing his eyes tight against the flickering lights and the rain darkening the entire world outside. Richie strokes his back slowly, up and down. “Everything’s going to be okay, Eddie, I swear. The odds of something bad happening are so  _ astronomically  _ low, and the odds of something good happening are so  _ astronomically high—” _

“What do you mean?” Eddie asks.

Richie withdraws a bit, separating them just enough that he can cup Eddie’s face in his. After a moment, he leans in and kisses him. He doesn’t deepen the kiss at all, but he presses in hard, tips his face and grips Eddie tight, and Eddie starts to shake. He reaches up and wraps his fingers around Richie’s wrist, tilting his head. Richie makes a little sound, just catching his breath, and Eddie pushes in even closer, feeling like he wanted to climb under Richie’s skin.

When they pull apart, Richie cups Eddie’s chin in his hand and grins. “I  _ mean,  _ what’s a better way to spend a rainy night in than—”

A bolt of lightning illuminates Eddie’s apartment for one heart-stopping moment before the lights whine and all go out at once. Eddie can feel his spine stiffen before he can stop it.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Richie tells him. They can both hear the whine from the hallway as the building’s backup generators kick on. He knows that the hall must be bathed in blue light but, here in his apartment, all there is is darkness. “I’ve got your candles right behind me here. Did you find the matchbooks?”

Eddie nods. When Richie releases him, though, he still has a brief moment of panic where his breath catches.

“I’m right here,” Richie says. There’s another beat before Richie comes back to him, his hand landing on Eddie’s shoulder. “Right here. I got the candles for you, honey, give your matches here.”

Hand shaking, Eddie pushes the matchbook into Richie’s palm. There’s still blackness everywhere for another long moment before the match strikes and catches, illuminating Richie’s face with a dim orange glow. When he lights the candle, there’s enough light to see the whole of him by. Eddie grabs one of his candlesticks from the bookshelves beside the television for Richie to set the candle in.

“I told you we were gonna have our date here,” Richie reminds him. “What’s better than a candlelit evening at home, right, sweetheart?”

Eddie’s chest feels tight again, heart pounding. He can’t help but smile, tipping his face down. Another match strikes, and Richie sets up a second candle beside the first. His warm hand takes Eddie’s face and tips it closer. After a moment where all Eddie can see is Richie’s shadowed face in the flickering candlelight, Richie kisses him again.

“Do you think everyone got home okay?” Eddie asks, when they separate. Richie huffs a laugh.

“I think so,” Richie tells him. “They all had more than enough time to get home, baby. They would’ve come back here if they needed to.” Eddie hesitates, long enough that Richie adds, “Everything’s  _ okay,  _ I promise. What would make you feel better, hm?”

Eddie shakes his head. His heart’s still pounding, but he feels better for being able to  _ see  _ Richie, at least.

“Why don’t you come with me?” Richie suggests. “It’s a little chilly out here, I’d rather be somewhere nice and warm with you.”

Eddie yelps when Richie hauls him up and off his feet, throwing him over his shoulder. He grabs the candles with the hand not wrapped around Eddie’s waist, holding him secure. Even with all the blood rushing to Eddie’s head, he finds it in himself to wind his arm around Richie’s chest, burying his face in the small of his back.

“Hey, what’re you doing back there?” Richie asks, hauling him off down the hallway. Eddie slips his hand down the back of Richie’s pants, slipping his fingers just past his belt. Richie’s footsteps stutter, and he laughs.  _ “Hey,  _ you watch it—”

“What do you mean?” Eddie asks.

“I mean—” Richie starts, but he cuts off when Eddie smacks him on the ass. Eddie’s laughing already before Richie is, indignantly exclaiming,  _ “Hey—” _

_ “You’re _ the one who kidnapped me,” Eddie reminds him. Richie kicks his bedroom door open.

“Is it a kidnapping if you come willingly?” Richie asks. Eddie hears the clatter of the candlesticks hitting his bedside table before Richie flings him backwards onto the bed, bouncing on the mattress. “Where’s all your extra blankets?”

“Top shelf in the hall closet,” Eddie says.

“You okay if I steal the candles for a sec?” Richie asks.

Eddie nods, and Richie kisses him on each cheek before vanishing into the hall with the candlelight. There’s not even enough time for Eddie to start being nervous in the darkness again before Richie’s coming jogging back in, blankets stacked in a pile so high they spill from his arms over the top of his head.

“Take this, please, honey,” Richie tells him. Eddie takes the candles from him and sets them back on the nightstand. A single drop of wax falls from one candlestick, and Eddie inhales sharply, yanking his hand back from the candles.

“Damn it,” Eddie hisses.

“Oh, baby, c’mere,” Richie coos. He sits on the edge of the bed beside Eddie, taking his hand carefully in both of his own. With one soft brush of his hand, he swipes the wax away; in its place, he kisses Eddie’s skin softly. Eddie laughs breathlessly.

“That’s much better,” he says, “thank you.”

“Mm,” Richie hums. He pulls away from Eddie to grab the blankets he’d retrieved from the hallway.

“What’re you doing with that?” Eddie asks. Richie spreads out blanket after blanket in bed; after those, he tugs Eddie’s spare pillows out from under his bed and props them up against the headboard, too.

“I’m keeping you warm,” Richie answers. He shucks his belt and pants so he can climb into bed beside Eddie comfortably, pulling him into his arms. Lightning fills the room again, briefly illuminating them both in blinding white light. The thunder that follows makes Eddie shake. “Oh, hey, baby, c’mere.”

Eddie tucks his head underneath Richie’s chin, wrapping his arm around his waist. Richie kisses the very top of his head. With his heart racing, Eddie asks, “Will you stay over here tonight?”

“In this weather?” Richie asks. “I have no plans to leave.” Richie tips Eddie’s chin up so he can kiss him again, nice and slow. Eddie can feel him start to smile just before they separate. “And with you here with me, honey, you couldn’t  _ pay  _ me to go.”

Eddie grins, and doesn’t even get to answer before Richie kisses him again. In the warm nest of blankets that Richie’s made for them in bed, candlelight flickering against the dark and pounding rain outside. The storm’s so loud that Eddie can hardly hear anything but that and Richie’s heart, when he rests his head back on his chest.

“I’m gonna keep you safe,” Richie murmurs to him. He smiles against Eddie’s temple when he kisses him there once, then twice. “No storm’s gonna get you while I’m here.”

Eddie pinches his side, laughing when Richie yelps, squirming into him. The two of them settle deeper into the bed, and Eddie yawns, relaxes. “Thank you.”

“Mm,” Richie murmurs, “thank  _ you.” _

**Author's Note:**

> You can (and should!) come chat with me on Twitter at [@nicole__mello](https://twitter.com/nicole__mello) and/or on Tumblr at [andillwriteyouatragedy](http://andillwriteyouatragedy.tumblr.com/).


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